


Fire and Ice

by Auggusst



Series: Alternate Universes [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Game of Thrones (TV), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Character Death, Emotional pain, Game of Thrones AU, Game of Thrones Alternate Universe, Game of Thrones Spoilers, Grief, Grieving, Love, M/M, Regret, Spoilers, Tony Stark Dies, killing your love, steve rogers as jon snow, tony stark as daenerys targaryen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:34:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23655412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auggusst/pseuds/Auggusst
Summary: Steve Rogers is Jon Snow and Tony Stark is Daenerys Targaryen. The end in the Throne Room.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Alternate Universes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1703173
Comments: 22
Kudos: 65





	Fire and Ice

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not even a little bit sorry lol i've been thinking about this for months. The parallels are too strong. It had to be done

The air was bitterly cold here, but it didn’t compare to the air higher up, thin and dizzying, when Tony was on the back of a dragon, with only flame to keep him warm. The ruins of the throne room were beautiful, snow covered, and silent, a field of conquest, blackened stone to rebuild, to remake greater. It had been a difficult choice to raze the city, but perhaps the followers of the Lord of Light knew what they were talking about: Fire was purification. The old ways had to be burned away, for him to remake Westeros, to free its innocents. It took him a long time to realize that. Sometimes the few had to be sacrificed to save the many, and as large as the population of King’s Landing was, the population of Westeros as a whole was much greater. Those who suffered now would be rewarded later, he would make sure of it. Sometimes you had to endure terrible things for the good to come.

Tony had endured a lot. He looked back on years of pain, of suffering, of loneliness and betrayal and loss, all of which had made him who he was today, had raised him from a demure, weak boy and turned him into a King, a Dragon Rider, a Conqueror. He thought of his victories, his failures, and the hard lessons he had to learn, which he would share with the world. The old lords of Westeros may have fought him for a time, but now that King’s Landing was his, their compliance would surely come swiftly. A melancholy sense of excitement filled him as he crossed the length of the long hall, and set his eyes on the Iron Throne, the seat which he had fought so long and hard for. It was his now, he simply needed to reach out and claim it.

He found himself at the foot of the dais, glancing down at the handful of stairs he needed to ascend to reach his throne. He climbed them. A harsh gust of wind cut across his face, cold and deep, but he smiled.

He could hear the heavy doors of the hall sweep open behind him, and knew Steve was there, knew he had followed him here. It made him smile. It seemed for the first time, he was getting all that he wanted. He had won his kingdom, won the battle against the Night King, and had found someone to love him completely, and that he loved in return. What else could Tony ask for?

He looked up at the iron-wrought seat again, at its pointed swords. They seemed beautiful to him, mere ornamentation instead of the weapons they once were.

“When I was a boy, I was told the throne was made with a thousand swords from my family’s fallen enemies,” Tony started, brown eyes sweeping over the throne. He smiled a little. “What do a thousand swords look like in the mind of a little boy who can barely count to twenty?”

Tony turned to look at Steve, who had reached the center of the hall now, left a trail of footprints in the snow so much larger than Tony’s. “I imagined a mountain of swords too high to climb, so many enemies you could only see the soles of the king’s feet,” he said, laughing a little.

Steve did not laugh. He was closer now, and Tony could see the fire behind the blue of his eyes, saw the shake in his hands, and the smile disappeared from Tony’s face instantly.

“I saw them executing prisoners in the street,” the blond started, voice firm and cold, like the wind. “They said they were acting on _your_ orders.” He looked at Tony expectantly.

The brunet licked his lips, stood a little taller. He knew Steve wouldn’t be happy with all that was happening, that he wouldn’t understand it at first. Steve’s heart was softer, warmer, and Tony loved that about him. “It was necessary,” he explained.

Steve bristled at that. He raised his shoulders, and knit his brows. “Necessary? Have you been down there? Have you seen?! Children! Little children _burned_!”

His voice echoed around the hall, booming, filled with rage, like it hardly ever was. Steve took a shuddering breath.

Tony stared at him, felt something unpleasant crawl into his chest. He had never wanted to hurt anybody. Ever. Things had changed today. The playing field hadn’t been even, and he had to take an unpleasant last step to win this war. If he didn’t, what was it all for? What were the years of abuse, of suffering, of being handed around like goods for sale, of being looked down on and doubted all for? How could he explain it all to Steve?

“I tried to make peace with the enemy,” Tony started, taking a step forward. He didn’t need to defend himself, really, but could give Steve an explanation. He seemed to sorely need it. “Their innocence was used as a weapon against me. It was supposed to cripple me.”

“And the prisoners?” Steve demanded, unsatisfied with his answer. There was grief in his tone now, and the blue of his eyes was so, so deep. It made Tony’s heart clench. “What about your advisor?”

Tony licked his lips, face twisting with pain. He brushed it aside, exhaled through his nose. “He conspired behind my back with my enemies. How have you treated people who’ve done the same to you? Even when it broke your heart?” His voice wavered a little, and his brown eyes were pleading. Steve wasn’t understanding, was fighting against it all when they were seconds from the end. Tony couldn’t bear it if Steve turned back now, if he lost his favor, his love. None of the rest mattered anymore without it. The thought filled him with fear, with urgency, which he desperately tried to squash down.

The blond shook his head, looked into Tony’s beautiful eyes. “Forgive him,” he said. Tony had to. He had to see that this wasn’t the right way, that everything that had been done today was wrong. He loved Tony, so much it hurt, but the words that others had put in his head, the opinions some had died for that now rang true were too much. There was still hope, Steve thought. He knew Tony was good, had seen the goodness in him. He had to reach it, had to turn this all around before it was too late.

“I can’t.”

Steve couldn’t take that. “You can,” he insisted, taking a step forward. “You can forgive all of them, make them see they’ve made a mistake. Make them _understand_.” He was trying to make _Tony_ understand now, and the slight shake of the brunet’s head made Steve begin to doubt he could.

 _‘Please,’_ he thought. _‘Don’t let it end like this.’_

Tony thought his heart was splitting. He could see how much this meant to Steve, could see how earnestly he was asking for it, but knew he couldn’t concede, not this time. He opened his mouth, grimaced, and closed it again.

“Please, Tony,” his lover said, and Steve sounded so close to tears that Tony almost broke.

He swallowed hard, reminded himself of his duty, of the larger things at stake here. Tony swallowed hard and raised his chin, put on the mask of a ruler. “We can’t hide behind small mercies,” he replied, and the regret was clear in his tone. He wished they could. He wished he could have shown kindness today, and that it would have been enough, but it wasn’t. “The world we need won’t be built by men loyal to the world we have.”

Steve shook his head, clenched his fists. “The world we need _is_ a world of mercy. It has to be!”

“And it will be!” Tony assured him, tone soft. He closed the distance between them finally, looked deep into Steve’s eyes, braced his hands on the blond’s forearms. He knew what he was doing, knew what had to be done. Had he led Steve astray thus far?

Steve’s gaze brushed over his face, his brow creased with worry, and his blue eyes wet. Tony wanted to kiss those tears away, to find a way to assure him that everything was alright now, that things would be good.

“It’s…It’s not easy to see something that’s never been before,” the brunet soothed, lifting a hand to brush over Steve’s beard. It was a little longer than when they’d met a few months ago, and suited him beautifully. It made him look like a king. He smiled softly, his heart warm and full. “Imagine it. A good world,” he said.

Steve’s fingers flexed against his waist, and held tight. There was a lump in his throat. It felt like he could hardly breathe, like the world had been flipped upside down. A good world? Could a good world be built from so much destruction, so much tragedy? They’d both suffered, had both seen and survived too many horrors. But today, they’d inflicted some on others. Would it be the last time?

“How do you know?” Steve asked. “How do you know it will be good?”

Tony let out a breath of laughter. “Because I know what is good,” he replied, as if stating the obvious. “And so do you,” he continued, pressing himself closer in the warm circle of Steve’s arms.

The blond shook his head in disagreement. He felt torn in half, the conversation he’d had earlier, the things he’d seen and done fighting with his heart, with the desire to follow Tony ‘til the ends of the earth, to love him and give him everything he ever needed and wanted. So few felt that way now. The others saw him as a monster, as dangerous and terrifying as the dragons who were his children.

“I don’t,” Steve insisted, and he took a harsh breath.

Tony braced a hand on his chest, dug his fingers into the leather of Steve’s armor, held him close. “You do,” he said softly. “You do. You’ve always known.” His conscience, his ability to judge right from wrong was one of the things Tony loved about him so much, was one of the reasons he wanted Steve at his side.

Steve was silent for a moment, tried to take in Tony’s words. There was snow falling gently through the holes in the elaborate ceiling, and the flakes caught in his dark hair. Tony was convincing, always had been. His talent for persuasion was almost unparalleled, even if force was part of the equation. Steve wasn’t sure what to think now. Maybe Tony was right, and maybe everyone was just overreacting. Maybe it would all be good, like Tony said. Steve had to be sure though. He licked his lips. “What about everyone else?” he asked. “What about all the other people who think they know what’s good?”

Tony brushed a tender hand over Steve’s cheekbone, wiped a tear that had managed to fall. He raised his head, his eyes a little darker, tone more serious. There was a hint of rage, well hidden beneath his layers, a thirst for revenge. For who or what exactly, Steve wasn’t sure. Tony had lost a lot, particularly in the last few days. Steve was almost certain that was what fueled his well guarded malice, the darkness in his words. “They don’t get to choose.”

Steve felt as if he’d been struck in the chest, as if he’d been stabbed all over again. The way Tony said it sent an unpleasant chill down his spine. They weren’t the words of a benevolent ruler, of a just king. They were the words of a tyrant, like the one Tony had worked so hard to depose, the one they’d fought against for so long. Something had changed in his lover, taken hold of him and turned him dark and cold, and Steve had been too blind to see it. It didn’t matter if he understood, if he could sympathize. That didn’t excuse it, just as none of it excused the piles upon piles of charred, broken bodies strewn across King’s Landing, of the smell of death that filled the cold air. Tony couldn’t see it in himself, couldn’t look past his own grief to realize he was choosing wrong. Steve had been warned, time and time again, that this would happen, that Tony would become this, but he’d ignored the words, assured himself that someone as wonderful as Tony could never fall to corruption, could never be anything but the loving, determined and confident man he’d come to know. The truth was staring him in the face now. It was too late to turn away from it.

Steve knew what he had to do. He wasn’t sure he had the strength to do it.

His silence was telling, had panic bubble up in Tony’s heart. Tony rested a hand on Steve’s neck, his tone ever so soft. “Be with me,” he said. “Build the new world with me. This is our _reason_ , and it has been since the beginning, since you were a little boy with a bastard’s name, and I was a little boy who couldn’t count to twenty.”

He laughed breathlessly, almost close to tears, how Steve had been moments ago. He needed Steve, needed him to say yes, needed to know that everything would be alright. He couldn’t do any of this without him.

“We do it together,” he said, with a nod of his head. He brushed his lips against Steve’s, a breath shared between them. “We break the wheel _together._ ”

Steve closed his eyes, knit his brows. His hands were shaking now, and the weight of the sword on his belt, and the dagger on his other side felt impossibly heavy. He took a deep breath, committed Tony’s features to memory. He took in the curve of his nose, those impossibly long lashes, the quirk of his brows. He raised a hand, cradled Tony’s head, teased his fingers through the soft curls at the nape of his neck. Steve leaned down, inhaled deeply. Tony smelled like heat and iron, not like the warm spices that had clung to his skin they last time they laid together.

He wished time would stand still. He wished he could live in this moment forever, that he never had to consider moving forward, that he never had to take the next step. He knew he could never be happy again afterwards, that the gifts of his second life had been exhausted. All that would remain was cold emptiness, a hole in his chest that the entire world couldn’t fill, that he couldn’t even try to.

And he had to do it anyway. He needed to take this next step, for the innocents burned in the streets, for those being wrongfully executed, for those cowering in fear and poverty, who had seen their city razed and ash fill the sky. He had heard someone say once that to love was to destroy, and that certainly felt true now. It took a moment, but Steve forced himself to speak.

“You are my king,” he said, his voice strained, and sad. “Now and _always_.”

Tony’s face melted into a smile, and that only hurt Steve all the more. It’d be the last he ever would see, and it was unbearably beautiful.

Steve leaned down, pressed their lips together insistently, and kissed Tony with all his might, as if it was the last time he ever could. It was.

Tony relaxed under his touch, felt warm and safe as he always did, kissed Steve with abandon, poured his whole heart into it. It was perfect. Everything was perfect now. He never had to feel lonely or unsure again, knew that he could rebuild everything he’d torn down, make it better, make it perfect, the way he felt now. They kissed for a long time, and Tony never wanted it to end. He wanted to live in this moment forever, feel this joy forever. He could think of nothing else. He didn’t even notice Steve’s shifting hands, almost missed the way the blond’s breath hitched, and by then, it was too late.

He didn’t feel the knife dig into his stomach until it was in deep, and sharp, unbearable pain twisted up and down his body.

He pulled back, stared down at it in disbelief, and then looked back up into Steve’s face. His eyes were wet with tears, and his breathing turned into agonized little sobs. He…He had just…?

The world seemed to spin, and Tony could feel his robes grow wet, could smell the blood spilling. He felt weak, and tired suddenly, like a child too late to bed, and stumbled backwards. Steve caught him, lowered him to the floor with a softness so opposite of what he’d just done, as if Tony was the most precious thing in the world.

Tony wanted to say something. He wanted to scream, to shout, wanted to tell himself that he’d seen this coming all along, but he _didn’t._ He’d never imagined this would happen, that Steve could do this to him. Worst of all, he didn’t hate him for it. The tears in Steve’s eyes, his sobbing whispers of apology filled Tony with a kind of grief that he didn’t anticipate. The cradle of his arms was warm, and his grip tight, as if he didn’t want to let go. Tony’s breath hitched, came out in shuddering little gasps. His eyes were growing darker, and he could feel the blood bubbling up in his throat, tainting his tongue with a coppery taste.

This wasn’t so bad, he supposed. He wasn’t alone at the end, like he’d been most of his life. Steve was here, had done this to him out of a sense of duty, he knew, had done this because he needed to. His brown eyes were soft, and hazy as they regarded the blond, instead of filled with malice or hatred as Steve wanted them to be.

It would make it all easier, if Tony hated him at the end, if he cursed Steve’s name forever, but he didn’t. Steve saw the love in his eyes, the longing, and he wanted to rip his own heart out of his chest, carve it up and offer it to the brunet on a silver platter. He couldn’t though, didn’t have that choice, not with the world behind him, needing him to protect it from the one thing he loved more than life. Steve wished Tony hated him, wished he fought back, or spit at him, or tried to get away, but it didn’t happen. Tony could forgive him, had, apparently, a testament to his true heart, to the intense love that he held, hotter than dragon fire, but Steve would _never_ forgive himself. Never. His eyes stung and his lungs tightened and he took in the detail of Tony’s face, the blood spilling from his mouth now, and felt his soul die.

He watched those brown eyes go blank, and drift closed, felt Tony’s body go slack and heavy in his grasp, and felt entirely, and utterly lost.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to scream at me in the comments lol


End file.
